


Eating Crow

by Fuuma_san



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: American colloquialisms causing problems, Asexual Character, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), BDSM elements, Both are virgins, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, Drinking, First Time, Funny, Hand Jobs, London Kink and Fetish Community, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Other, Role Reversal, brief appearance of Crowley's fucking-shit-up-jacket, but I promise the explicit content is actually super soft, finding proof of God is hard, wing touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25038262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuuma_san/pseuds/Fuuma_san
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale drunkenly argue about whose fault losing the Antichrist was, and they have an upsetting misunderstanding that makes Crowley, a demon, finding himself having to defend and back up God's ineffable plan to Aziraphale, an angel; and leaves Aziraphale trying to come to terms with exactly what kind of filthy, dirty, foul demon he’d fallen for.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 122
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens, Good Omens Mini Bang, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Our Own Side





	Eating Crow

**Author's Note:**

> Bless the mods of the [ Do It With Style Mini Bang event,](https://do-it-with-style-events.tumblr.com/) and thank you for your hard work to put this event together! 
> 
> Title art by [semperfiona!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperfiona/pseuds/semperfiona_podfic) Look at it! She did such a good job! [And check out her excellent podfic!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905650)

○ ● 😇 ● ○ ○ ● 😈● ○

“I’m glad you lost the Antichrist Crowley, it’s all worked out very well because of that,” said Aziraphale, apropos of nothing. 

Crowley leaned forward, staring at Aziraphale over the rim of his sunglasses. They were in the bookshop, enjoying their third bottle of celebratory vintages and the newfound freedom to openly fraternize, or whatever you wanted to call it. Aziraphale had even deigned to uncork his really good stuff, and they had been having a lovely time of it. Keywords: had been.

“What are you on about?” said Crowley, frowning.

“The Antichrist. Adam. It’s a good thing you didn’t deliver him properly, because it all worked out in the end, didn’t it? A very good thing indeed.”

Crowley scoffed, “I delivered him properly! Took my instructions, followed them to the letter. It’s not my fault he got misplaced.”

“I’m saying it’s a good thing.”

“Well it wasn’t  _ my  _ thing. The nuns are the ones that cocked it up.” He waggled a finger at nonexistent nuns.

Aziraphale pressed his lips and paused. 

“What?” Crowley snapped.

“Blaming the humans for your mistake?”

“Oh really?” He stood up, only listing slightly, and stomped about a bit before swinging around, “I’m to blame they can’t follow simple instructions? Here’s the Antichrist, swap him out. Oh no, Crowley, you lost a baby you handed over properly?  _ Noooo _ ! Is it so hard to believe that a bunch of satanic nuns couldn’t keep their babies straight?” 

Aziraphale leaned back, his chin up and nose in the air as he swirled his wine in his glass, giving it a bit of a sniff and sip. “I believe you’re less perfect than you play at. Hell thinks it was your fault. And we talked to the human nun, she said she swapped the babies correctly. I’m apt to believe her, at least.”

“You’d take the word of Hell and its minions over mine? Like they ever know what’s going on earth-side,” Crowley stalked back and swiped his own wineglass from the table. He pointed at the angel with his now occupied hand, seeming to forget he had two, nearly sloshing his wine. “Admit... Ad- Admit that it’s not my fault.” Crowley drained his glass, still pointing an accusatory finger.

“I shall do no such thing. ‘Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, that it may minister grace unto the hearers.’ Ephesians 4:29.” 

Crowley slammed his glass down almost hard enough to break it. “Scripture!? You’re quoting scripture to me now? That’s rich. Ohhhh, that’s rich, coming from you. You already said it! The bus stop, you were all ‘It’s ineffable, Crowley’ again! Said... Said it coulda been Her plan all along.  _ She’s  _ the one that lost him then, not me.”

Aziraphale snorted. “She’s the Almighty. She can plan for you to make a mistake.”

Crowley snarled. “Tha’sss it! That isss it! I’m going to prove that it wasn’t my fault and then, then… Then you are going to be eating crow,  _ then _ . You’ll see who's cocked… Who’s… It’s not my fault, you’ll see that  _ then _ , you smug angel bastard!”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped, his grip slipping on his wine glass. “Crowley!” Once he sorted himself he patted at his chest, a blush deepening on his face. “What a horrible thing to threaten a… to threaten a friend with.”

“Oh, friends are we now? You worried I’m going to do it, hmm? Well, I am! I’ll show you She’s to blame, her and her ineffable games, then... oh yes, you’ll be eating crow then. And I hope you choke on it!”

Aziraphale was so shocked and taken aback this time that he did drop his wine. Crowley grinned, very pleased with himself for flustering the angel, who had turned so red in the face he looked like a tomato, his mouth gaping and working futilely. Aziraphale launched himself out of his chair, and his wine un-spilled, its glass returning to the table with a wave. 

“That is quite enough!” Aziraphale yelled. “You would… And you’re so pleased about it, that you would do… unspeakable…” Aziraphale shook himself and started wringing his hands. He took a deep breath, turned to face Crowley fully and said firmly, “It’s time for you to leave.”

“Is it, now?” Crowley mocked.

“Yes. You need to go.”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

And with one last sneer, Crowley left, slamming the door behind him. He sobered up, flung himself into the Bentley, threw it into gear, and drove home, burning off a little steam by roaring through the streets of London, running all the red lights. 

“What’s he even getting all bent out of shape about anyway? He’s the one always going on about God this, plan that, ineffable! It’s ineffable! Blah blah… But now it’s all  _ my fault _ ? I’m the screw up here? I don’t think so. I’m not taking the fall for God’s games.” He made a u-turn out of nowhere, causing oncoming traffic to swerve about to avoid hitting him. Tadfield. It was time to go back to Tadfield and accost an ex-nun. He would get proof of God’s interference and then rub it in Aziraphale’s face.

○ ● 😇 ● ○ ○ ● 😈● ○

Aziraphale paced around his shop, pulling his fingers and tugging at his clothes, which suddenly seemed too warm and to be sitting askew. He was flushed with anger and arousal and more anger about being aroused, so he pretended there wasn’t another heat building inside him and focused on just being angry. Crowley was being so vulgar and so horrible! They both knew they cared for one another, had for a long time, and Aziraphale had entertained certain... thoughts... over the years, and had hoped the demon shared those thoughts, but this was… was...

They’d never even kissed before! Well, perhaps a greeting peck a few times but not like… not a  _ kiss  _ kiss. Aziraphale touched his lips unconsciously, running a fingertip across them and remembering all the times he’d fantasized of what it would feel like to be free to kiss his demon whenever he’d like to, how soft and warm he’d feel. And now Crowley was throwing around threats about who’ll be cocking who, and eating him, and choking on it!?! 

Unbidden images had flashed in the angel's mind when Crowley had first made his threats, just quick flickers of thought, like he was flipping through a photo album. Crowley, grinning in triumph, forcing Aziraphale to lower himself by pressing his hands down onto his shoulders. Aziraphale waiting on his knees under the oculus of his shop, hair lit golden in the sunlight, hard in his trousers, mouth hanging open like a beggar as Crowley circled him, inspecting from the surrounding darkness. One of Crowley’s hands caressing Aziraphale's cheek, the other holding the demon's erect cock, feeding it to the angel. Crowley tangling his fingers in Aziraphale's white curls, yanking them hard as he thrust deep in his mouth, the demon’s face full of sharp teeth and ecstasy. Aziraphale coughing, the demon’s spend dripping from his lips and spattered across his cheeks. 

Aziraphale groaned, dragging his hands across his face, trying to hide from these images, but they already felt like they were burned into his mind’s eye. He’d imagined… lewd things... happening between them before, but nothing this… graphic. 

It was all a bit much.

“Good Lord. I need to sober up. I can’t deal with this,” he said, nodding to himself as he paused his pacing and forced the alcohol from his system. He shivered, the sudden lack of alcohol flushing giving him goosebumps and dampening his fury, muddling the bad taste of anger with the bad taste of dehydration.

His thoughts started back up, though slower and less enraged this time, yet he resumed pacing. Since when had Crowley been shortening his name to just Crow? He’d been using Anthony for a few centuries before he’d told Aziraphale, and even then, he hadn’t actually told him. Double-crossing murderous Nazis were the ones who had actually told Aziraphale, and only when he’d been wandering around the demon's home did he realize how long Crowley’d been using it. Blurting out a nickname only while in a drunken argument didn't come as a surprise, but it hurt to be shut out, to not be told things. Important things, even, if he was thinking of himself that way now. Just because Aziraphale didn’t like change and had the same alias for several centuries didn’t mean he wouldn’t have tried!

And then Aziraphale remembered back. He had still been slipping up and calling him Crawley in the 6th century, over half a millennia after he’d changed it, and Crowley had always been irritated by those errors on Aziraphale’s part. 

“Oh.” he wrung his hands and resumed pacing. “I suppose I haven’t been very trustworthy with that sort of thing... I suppose it does suit him.” The demon did have beautiful black wings, and a penchant for expensive, shiny things. “It’s a bit cute even, as a nickname. Crow.”

Aziraphale stopped, fidgeting idly with a letter opener from his desk before setting it down on a pile of books by the couch. 

"Maybe he didn't really mean it? …No. No, I think he meant it. He really was so very pleased with himself for saying it. He repeated it for Goodness's sake." Aziraphale rubbed his temples. Tea. A nice warm cup would soothe his ruffled feathers and help him think straight. 

It took him far too long to brew a cup, as he kept forgetting what he was doing and having to shake certain pernicious ideas from his train of thought. He sat and sipped, talking out loud to himself. 

"We were drunk. He may have just had a- a slip of the tongue. With the pressure of our respective head offices—former head offices—being relaxed, certain… previously repressed thoughts and feelings falling out seems inevitable. And obviously if we're not beholden to the rules of those former employers, the boundaries we've laid down are likely to need renegotiating. I've thought of that before, surely he has as well."

Aziraphale took a long drag of his tea, tapping his freshly manicured nails on the little wings of his mug. 

"When I put it that way it sounds very reasonable. An outcome to be expected." His ears burned and he fidgeted, uncomfortable. "The… particulars of his carnal desires are shocking, but you fell in love with a demon, Aziraphale, it shouldn't come as that much of a surprise that he'd find such… harsh treatment… enticing. "

He sighed deeply, setting his mug down and promptly forgetting about it as he stared at the middle distance. Moving their relationship to a place of physical intimacy was a welcome direction, but could he stomach it moving so far? Would he abandon Crowley if that was what the demon wanted from him? Could he keep denying him and watching his eyes shutter, his shoulders sagging for the rest of eternity? Could he really subject Crowley to an emotional death by a thousand cuts just because Aziraphale hadn't expected… a degree of roughness?

"He deserves better."  _ Than me. Than what I’ve been giving him. Than what he’s had. _

○ ● 😇 ● ○ ○ ● 😈● ○

The drive to Tadfield was uneventful, though it had unsettled Crowley, reminding him of the last time he’d made the journey, with all its trials and tribulations. Although his resolve hadn’t wavered, his outrage had, which turned out to be a good thing, he thought. Calm and methodical hadn’t been his priority last time.

“Hypnotizing her was the problem. We didn’t ask the right questions and she couldn’t think for herself like that. This time there’s no rush. We’ll take our time, oh yes, and she’ll spill,” Crowley told the Bentley, which may or may not have been listening. 

He pulled up outside the paint-gun-range-place and parked. There weren’t any humans running around today so it was quiet, but there was another car parked nearby, so hopefully someone was there. He entered, looking about before he came upon an office, the door of which was closed but that the quiet click of keyboard could be heard from inside. Crowley knocked, and the noise inside paused, as someone got up and walked to the door, answering it slowly.

It was that nun. As she saw him her mouth dropped open and she said, “Saints and demons preserve us, it's Master Crowley!"

“Ugh, you said that the last time, too,” said Crowley, crossing his arms.

The nun blinked and her eyes darted about, looking for an escape, but seeing as she didn’t move, she probably didn’t have one. That made things easier for him if she couldn’t go anywhere, but also harder. He heaved a deep sigh.

“Look, I’m not upset, and, I can not believe I have to say this, what am I? An angel? Anyway, don’t run, I’m not here to hurt you. I just wanted to ask you some questions.  _ ‘Be not afraid’ _ and all that.” 

“You.. You’re not here to drag me to hell?”

“No no no no no no. No deals or soul selling or anything of the like. I could buy you lunch, though, if you’d like?”

She blinked more, searching his face for something. Which she evidently found, as she said, “Alright. Let me just lock up.”

○ ● 😇 ● ○ ○ ● 😈● ○

Aziraphale, after regaining his composure, having a good mope, and then having another fortifying cup of tea, screwed up his courage and decided that the only course of action he could stomach was to prepare himself so that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself over… this… again. 

As to how he was to do that, well, he had some very nearby resources. Which was how he came to find himself pacing in the street outside the store beside him, Intimate Books, and fretting about how to phrase his… request. After a good hour of this, the owner stuck her head out and smiled.

“Good day, Mr. Fell. Would you like to come inside?” she said.

“Oh, ah… Yes, thank you,” he replied, twisting the ring on his pinky as he did. 

He’d been inside a few times over the years, just to get to know the neighbors, be polite, and it looked much the same as it always had. Up front was a very colorful section, where brightly colored striped flags were above each shelf, and then behind that the sections became less colorful and the covers much more lewd, until things in the back were wrapped in black plastic with white stickers. 

“How are you doing, Martha dear?”

“Fine, thank you. Business is a bit slow today and I’m enjoying the break,” she said and tucked her hair back behind her ear. It was half pink and half purple now, about shoulder length and straight. She was a middle aged lady, but she looked a decade younger, chubby and with quite a lot of facial piercings. “How are you? You’ve been pacing outside for quite some time now.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale forced a chuckle. “Quite. Yes… you see I was hoping to ask you for some advice, I suppose. Considering the establishment you run I thought you would have the requisite knowledge to direct me in my inquiries.”

Martha blinked at him, a bit confused. “Okay. Let’s start with advice. What would you like my advice on?”

“You see I have a companion, and he’s… We’re…” he waved his hand in a series of abortive gestures, then sighed.

“The redhead who always wears black?”

“Oh yes, you know him?” She nodded. “Yes, that’s Crowley. Crowley has been with me since the beginning you see… ah, no I suppose I should say that we have been together for a very long time. And recently we both got each other through some very intense things, but in the end I think it’s only brought us closer and we’ve had quite a good time celebrating our surviving the apo- the um, the recent hardships.”

“How nice. He sounds sweet.”

Aziraphale huffed a laugh. “He can be, but don’t ever say that to him. Well, last night we had an argument because he… he said some things I wasn’t expecting. Things I am embarrassed to repeat, but that illuminated that he has some… well, um… dark and carnal desires.” The more he spoke, the more his face burned, till he could feel the blush creeping down his neck and burning his ears. 

“I see.”

“Oh, I am glad this is making sense to you. That’s my problem, you see, I’m so flustered that I’m doing a very poor job of communicating about this situation at all, even to myself. That’s what I was hoping you might help with, as a fellow purveyor of knowledge. I’m a bit out of my depth, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, okay, I think I understand the gist of it. Do you know if Crowley is as new as you are?”

“Definitely not.” Aziraphale hadn’t even pictured it before, and Crowley had said those things out loud without skipping a beat. These ideas must be old hat to Crowley.

“Is he involved in the Scene?”

“Usually.” The demon was always fashionable and knew what was going on with the humans. 

Martha hummed. “That’s intimidating for you, then.”

“Yes, exactly! It puts me in an awkward position, especially if I can’t even talk about it with him.”

“Okay, so let’s see if we have this right, Mr. Fell. You want more information about fetishes and other kinky sex things, and you’d like to be more comfortable and practiced at communicating about it so that you can then talk with your partner Crowley about it. That about sum it up?”

“Yes, exactly that, though I think partner is maybe a bit um…”

“Right, my mistake, sorry. Well, I think you’d be best reading a bit of introductory literature so you can be more familiar with the terminology, but reading will only give you that. For the rest, I think you should go to some workshops, if you think you can handle them.”

“Oh,” he said, crestfallen. “You don’t think reading books is enough?”

“Sorry, Mr. Fell, but no, I don’t. It’s helpful to get out and see other people talking about their relationships and fetishes and different types of play, as well as for you to join in those conversations. Communication is best learned by practice, and what you want is to be better at communicating. Besides, communication is the foundation of having safe and consensual kink in relationships, and having other people model how to negotiate is very helpful. It just so happens that my favorite workshop is tonight, and it’s a good one for newcomers. I’d be more than happy to bring you with, be a friendly face, if you’d like.”

Aziraphale thought about that, humming his consideration. “What’s it like, this workshop?”

“Nothing too intimidating, I assure you. We just meet up at The Book Club, get some drinks, and talk as a group. Topics are usually varied depending on what participants have going on. Just a bit of community and group bonding, nothing unusual. The topics of conversation will tend to be both lewd and kinky, so it’ll be good practice at hearing that sort of thing, if you’re not used to it.”

“That doesn’t sound too hard.”

“It’s really not. Meet me back here at 6:00, when my shift ends? We can head over together.”

“Yes, thank you, I shall.”

“Right. Until then, books.” She confidently walked into the back, three shelves in and pulled a book, returning to him with it and walking them to the register. “Read this, and if you have more specific inquiries later I can recommend other literature, though nowadays most of the good resources are online.” 

Martha handed him the book, entitled “When Someone You Love is Kinky” and he took it. “This looks perfect! Thank you again, Martha dear, and I’ll see you later,” Aziraphale said as he paid and left. 

○ ● 😇 ● ○ ○ ● 😈● ○

Lunch with the nun had worked. At least, as far as Crowley was concerned, he had gotten all that could be gotten. Once he’d assuaged her fears, gotten a pint in her, and spent an hour being non-threatening, she answered every question as best as she could. 

Unfortunately, she didn’t know much else than what he’d already gotten out of her, but he had gotten the name and phone number of one of her fellow ex-satanic-nuns, and gotten a physical description on the father Mary had thought was the ambassador, which had sounded about right, but minimal googling for pictures revealed that she was mistaken, to her surprise. The two men looked similar but the ambassador was more bug-eyed and the ambassador's wife wasn’t blonde, whereas the lady she’d given the Antichrist was. That, at least, confirmed that she’d handed the baby to some other parents than she was supposed to. Like he’d said!

The phone call had been even more illuminating. Sister Grace had told him that two mothers had come in that night, and within minutes of one another had both birthed boys. She’d seen both babies and remarked at how similar they’d looked, both blonde, pale, and average length and weight. 

The pieces were falling into place, but he still didn’t have enough information. So he was standing in the middle of Tadfield, waiting and watching. An annoying man with a wiener dog kept giving him the stink eye, but Crowley pointedly ignored him while playing on his phone. Eventually, almost to sundown, Crowley spotted who he’d been waiting for.

The Antichrist rounded the corner, biking about with those other kids from the airbase. Crowley tucked his phone back in his pocket and hailed them. They regarded him suspiciously, so he smiled, trying to soften his demeanor. 

“Hey kids, how’s it going?”

The dirty one gave him a side-eye, but it was the girl that spoke, “We’re not supposed to talk to strangers.”

Crowley frowned, an exaggerated, almost cartoonish thing, “I’m not a stranger, I’ve had the pleasure of making your acquaintance before. Anyway, I’m not here to bother you or impede your evening, just want to talk to the Anti- umm, talk to this young man here for a moment, if you would please?”

“It’s alright, guys, I know him. I’ll be right back,” the Antichrist said, and wheeled off by himself, back towards the Bentley. Crowley threw a sloppy farewell salute to the other kids and followed.

“What do you want?” said the Antichrist.

“I want to talk to your parents. Just to ask them a few simple questions.”

“Why?”

“To win an argument.”

“Then no.”

“What- nu- ….ugh, argh!” Crowley sputtered, trying to contain his frustration. “Look I’m not doing anything dangerous or demonic or anything like that! I’m just doing a bit of poking around to see what sorts of supernatural forces have been at work here. It’ll be valuable to know that, in the future!” The Antichrist remained unmoved. Crowley heaved a sigh. “Okay, fine. Honesty. Full truth. I do want to win an argument, you have no idea how much I want to win this argument. And yes, I mostly just want to be right and win. But that’s not the only reason I want to win this particular argument. You see, this argument was with Aziraphale, the angel you met, about God.”

The Antichrist nodded, encouraging, so Crowley kept going. 

“So um… well, faith’s  _ really  _ important to an angel, did you know that? They’re not  _ angels  _ anymore, without their faith. And he  _ really  _ loves being an angel. But with the apocalypse… His bosses betrayed him, the archangels showed they were two-faced, bloodthirsty fu— and… and then, they tried to kill him. So, Heaven betrayed him and he’s… well he’s  _ heartbroken _ . You know? And he’s been trying to pretend everything’s okay and he’s fine, but I can tell. I’ve known him since the beginning, he can’t hide things from me.” Crowley rubbed the back of his neck, and looked around, unable to make eye contact. “He doesn’t deserve that. And if I win this argument, I’ll have proved that what he did was right, and Heaven was wrong, that God did the right thing. It will help restore his faith in God.”

Crowley glanced over, and the Antichrist was smiling at him, practically grinning. Crowley growled. “Don’t look at me like that! I told you I mostly just want to be right and rub it in his face!” 

The Antichrist giggled. “Sure, right.” 

Crowley hissed. 

“What kinds of questions did you want to ask?”

“About you mostly, your birth and before. And before you ask, I have no intention of letting them know anything about what you are or anything like that, just simple things, like, when’d you move to Tadfield, were you planning the pregnancy, did you want a boy, was it exciting, any troubles, how was labor, was he an easy baby. Stuff like that. Nothing to get them thinking or worrying, just happy parents talking happily about their beloved kid. I know God stuck her finger in this pie, I’m just trying to find the cracks left, and I’m certain I’m on the right track.”

“Yeah, alright. None of that sounds too bad. But don’t upset them, I’ll know if you do.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Okay. And my name is Adam, remember?”

“Right, right, Adam….?”

“Adam Young. And my parents are Deirdre and Arthur, and we live at 4 Hogback Lane. I’ll be back for dinner at sundown.”

“Right, thanks. I’ll just pop over there and finish. Out of your hair in a flash.”

○ ● 😇 ● ○ ○ ● 😈● ○

Aziraphale’s new book wasn’t very long, only around 150 pages, and the writing was neither dense nor difficult to get through. He spent the afternoon with it, finishing it with a bit of time to spare before he’d agreed to meet up with Martha. It had been illuminating and reassuring to read. It even opened on a comparison between tastes in caviar versus chocolate, to which Aziraphale had nearly had a “your cocoa doth grow cold” moment. He remembered back to the many kinds of seafood the demon barely responded to over the centuries—caviar included—that Aziraphale had adored, and yet the demon would greedily devour high quality chocolates with the same gusto as Aziraphale. He made a mental note to thank Martha again for the recommendation, and to get these “online” resources she had mentioned as well. There had been a lovely glossary and recommendations for further reading at the end of the book, and he intended to look those up.

He locked up the bookshop and waited for Martha outside, lost in thought. The book had asked a lot of questions, given him plenty to think about. Not just about Crowley, but about himself. He hadn’t given his potential for a sex life much thought, having never felt right about indulging in that sort of behavior with humans, and the book had even given him some enlightenment on that. It had talked about how, when there was an imbalance of power, there were unique ethical considerations, a sentiment Aziraphale heartily agreed with. How was he supposed to explain to some poor human, ah, I’m curious about carnal gratification, but I’m a celestial being in charge of watching over humanity and can easily destroy you and everyone you know, would you consent to some genital contact? By-the-by, you might only be interested in me because humans tend to gravitate towards my holiness, are you sure I’m not coercing your consent?

No, that sort of thing was a quagmire he had avoided for good reasons. But with Crowley, it was different. They’d never really tested the limits of who would win in a fight, but they were at least both on the same planes of existence, unlike the humans. The thought of doing all sorts of sexual things with the demon didn’t faze him— at least, not in an ethical manner. Those thoughts did  _ quite a lot _ to him physically and emotionally. The book had urged him to think about specific scenarios and actions and identify what he felt about them, and as he stared at the sky he did exactly that, giving in-depth consideration to any sexual things he could think of and surprising himself with how very much he found appealing. He let himself examine his reaction to the images he’d formed when Crowley first threatened him, and this time he acknowledged that the ideas aroused him. The worst that he could say was that some of it was a bit intimidating or worrisome when he imagined doing it with Crowley. 

He was growing ever more comfortable with the ideas of intense and carnal intimate contact between the two of them. 

Martha politely interrupted his thoughts when she arrived and they headed out together. She asked if he’d liked the book and they chatted easily as they traveled. 

“You seem significantly less flustered than you were a few hours ago,” she told him. 

“I am, and I owe it to you and your book recommendation. Thank you again, my dear.”

“You’re quite welcome Mr. Fell.” 

When they arrived he was surprised again. It looked like an ordinary cafe, there weren’t many books at all, but the signage all read “the Book Club.” They ordered drinks and then Martha led them off to a room downstairs, where a very wide range of humans gathered. There were young and old, skinny and fat, light and dark colored, chipper and grumpy. They lightly chatted till the leader, a man who went by Greg, said it was time to make introductions. They all went around the group introducing themselves, with a name to be called, how long they’d been in the community and their ‘role,’ whatever that meant. They were kind enough to not make Aziraphale go first. When he did he introduced himself as just “Mr. Fell, this is my first time in the community and I’m not sure what role I am.” 

Aziraphale was the newest participant, with three others who said less than 6 months. Martha was apparently an elder, as was Greg, with them both having over a decade in the community. After introductions Greg opened up the floor to topics members wanted to talk about. 

It was all rather less sordid than he’d been worried about. Just like any support group, some people wanted to brag about their accomplishments (in this case that meant particularly difficult or spectacular ‘play’ they had engaged in), people who were having relationship difficulties, people who wanted advice, and people who were just enjoying socializing. 

He felt especially at home consoling those who were worried about their relationships, and had some advice to offer several of those. To Celia, a sweet woman who was struggling with feeling self-conscious with public play, he said that it was okay if it was harder for her than it seemed to be for others, because we can’t know what goes on inside others and if she didn’t like a certain “play,” she could always stop. This got a round of nods and agreement from the group. “Play” was such a fun word that they used here, it made it all seem so much less serious and intimidating, and he appreciated that. Aziraphale’s heart went out to Miz. David, who was having trouble finding someone who was a ‘switch’ and yet who didn’t fetishize their body, bemoaning in detail how betrayed they felt when they realized that was someone’s only interest in them. Aziraphale gave them a blessing for suitable encounters. 

After more than an hour, Greg turned his attention to Aziraphale. “Since we have a new face who hasn’t spoken much about himself, what brings you here, Mr. Fell?”

All the eyes in the room turned to him, which wasn’t as hard now that he knew some rather intimate details about most of those eyes’ owners. “Ah, right. Yes… Well, it was my long time neighbor Martha, who literally brought me. I sought out her advice for a personal issue, and she recommended I come here.”

Sarah, a lovely submissive lady who had been talking about their latest adventures as a “demo doll” at a convention, asked, “Anything you’d like to talk about here? Perhaps we have some advice.”

“Hmm, I’m sure you may at that. Well the long and short of it is that my long time companion told me that he’d like for me to… ah… The topic of... um, of cock choking came up, and I’m trying to work on being comfortable with that sort of thing. I’m new to all this, so I’m dipping my toes in the water, as it were.” 

Greg nodded and rubbed his chin, “Oh, yeah, that’s a rough one to get sprung on you. Dropped you into the deep end, didn’t he? That one has lots of trust issues. Dangerous, and the fear of injuring your partner can ruin any enjoyment you’d get from the act if you’re unprepared.”

Celia leaned forwards, pointing in agreement to Greg, “Yeah, and that’s a complex kind of play too, jumping right into the heavy breathplay, but one that mixes in sex, humiliation, a strong power exchange, and several biological reactions.” She made a sympathetic face. “Are you worried for him? Is he being very demanding about it? ”

Aziraphale laughed and waved off her comment. “No, my dear woman, though I appreciate your concern. No, my Crowley wouldn’t push me for much of anything. I’ve put my foot down and slowed our relationship many times before, and other than grumping and moping about it he obeys my wishes. I trust him very much.” 

“That’s always good to hear,” said Martha. “That you trust each other, especially if he’s already submitting to you. It’s nice to be in an established dynamic.” 

“Still, I wouldn’t start with that kind of play, if I were you.” This time it was Rob, a man in his early seventies who said during introductions that he was in a leather family. “That’s something you should build up to. Maybe just try some deep throating or the gentle breath plays first, work up from there?” Murmurs of agreement filled the room. 

“I think that is excellent advice,” said Aziraphale.

“Oh no wait, Mr. Fell! You’re new-new, yeah? What do you know about scene negotiating?” added Celia.

“Not much, I’m afraid,” he replied. This brought the room to life, as everyone started emphasizing the importance of it and encouraging him. A robust discussion followed, where several other participants even practiced negotiating a hypothetical scene in front of him. Once he reassured them he understood they had him practice one with them, which had him flustered but once he did it to everyone’s satisfaction they moved on to other topics. After a while the conversations broke into small groups and to more personal topics, mostly just friends catching each other up on their lives. Aziraphale took a back seat and enjoyed listening in, learning quite a lot about the other participants. Overall, he was extremely pleased with the experience. Here he was, dipping into the fetish and kink scene, successfully saying things out loud to others, frankly discussing and negotiating a hypothetical sex scene with a stranger. He was quite proud of his progress for the day. 

Before he left, he made inquiries to each of the participants about what other kinds of events they went to, and then gave them a small blessing so they’d have a lovely week. In the process he’d made a few potential friends and was invited to several more events, and was planning on going to them all. 

○ ● 😇 ● ○ ○ ● 😈● ○

By nightfall, Crowley was back on the road to London. He’d pretended to be a researcher working with the NHS to convince Adam’s parents to talk to him, summoning his shiny orange government jacket and everything, and they’d bought it. Took a bit of a bribe—he’d had to conjure up a free dinner for them to get them to stop cooking their own and sit down with him—but oh the things those humans had told him! God had left her fingerprints everywhere. 

But when he finally pulled up in front of the bookshop it was dark and empty, and when he tried the door it was locked. Fine by him. Aziraphale could go off on a sulk. Crowley would just come back tomorrow. And maybe he’d do a bit of miracling in America first, really beef up his case if his angel took his time. The Dowlings were sure to be another ripe source of evidence. Oh, Crowley could already see the look on Aziraphale’s face when he laid out all his perfect points. It was going to be terrific.

○ ● 😇 ● ○ ○ ● 😈● ○

Aziraphale was enjoying himself much more than he had expected to. Since his first event had been such a resounding success, he’d taken up any invitation he was given to different events around the city. And there were plenty, at least one every day! Many of them were workshops or support groups like his first, but some were live demonstrations, where talented experts gave a lecture on a particular form of play and then showed how it was done, or play parties, where people engaged in various forms of ‘play’ in public, usually while also snacking, socializing, and/or dancing. 

When he’d first encountered the advice that he should try each form of play three times before making a decision on whether or not he liked it, he had been worried about how he would manage to keep an open mind while doing so. Now he was looking forward to it, having spent days learning about all sorts of play, picturing what it would be like to do things to Crowley, or have Crowley do things to him, practicing with all sorts of toys and techniques. He had been particularly interested in the various forms of whipping humans were now doing; they used to whip people publicly as punishment, a harsh horrible thing, whereas these modern “floggers” were barely more than a deep tissue massage. One vendor had such a luxurious mink and suede one— a soft, kind thing to stroke over the warmed skin of a lover— that Aziraphale had bought one and spent the rest of the evening running his fingers over it, imagining its sensual uses. Most of the forms of bondage were similar— intended to be safe and exciting, not horrible and cruel. Nothing like the Spanish Inquisition, not even as uncomfortable as his manacles were at the Bastille. When he’d pictured Crowley binding his wrists and ankles with black snakeskin leather cuffs, studded with gold hardware, binding him in a mix of their colors, a physical representation of how they were on their own side together, he had immediately made inquiries to the best vendors about acquiring such a thing, and had custom ordered a full set right then and there. 

Aziraphale had even been invited to a lovely lunchtime orgy for people who were attracted to people of more than one gender, and he'd gone, seeing as Crowley had many different genders. He hadn't been to an orgy since Rome, and this was quite a bit different from those. Turns out he'd been a bit confused about it, since it was an orgy for people who were bisexual or pansexual, but it had still been a much nicer, kinder orgy than he had seen before, full of feelings of love and playfulness. He hadn’t participated, mind you, but he had enjoyed basking in the emotions of those who were. When propositioned by a nice young man and his wife he’d apologized, explaining that he was a virgin and there to learn things for use with his many-gendered companion. They were most understanding, and had even rallied a few of the others to demonstrate various forms of coitus they thought it would behoove him to know.

In his long life Aziraphale had come across sex many, many times, and had a general knowledge of it, but you rather got more out of the experience when you could interrupt with questions whenever you liked. Surreptitious glances, catching humans in alleys and forests, diagrams and prose read repeatedly were one thing. Being able to lean over someone as they were fucked over a table to see how they were sorting their legs and the table’s without anyone being uncomfortable and then asking them afterwards what were the fun and hard parts of it was a completely different thing. Katherine, a soft lady of middling years, had been the most kind and helpful, giving him multiple demonstrations of various positions and techniques on different kinds of genitalia, then letting him take her for cake and coffee after to chat about physical relationships. She was an exhibitionist, so his questions mid-intercourse and afterwards only added to her enjoyment of her sexual activities. 

Humans were such interesting, diverse creatures.

○ ● 😇 ● ○ ○ ● 😈● ○

Crowley was convinced that Aziraphale was avoiding him. Why else wouldn’t he be home for nearly two weeks straight? That was fine, this happened sometimes after arguments. Aziraphale would eventually come back to his bookshop and then Crowley could drop by again. Crowley had let his annoyance fizzle out; if Aziraphale was that upset Crowley knew better than to be the one to bring it up again. Were he to do so it would just prolong their separation, and now that they were on their own side together, Crowley really didn’t want that. The first week back in London had been bad enough— he’d wake up and drag himself over to the bookshop, be disappointed, then wander around until he got bored, at which point he went home and watched tv and yelled at his plants till he was too bored or tired and went back to sleep. It had only taken a few days of that before his ire had completely dissipated and now he was just… lonely. 

Which was stupid, he was surrounded by people and had spent centuries on his own before. He’d been spoiled: too used to at least having the ability to go see Aziraphale whenever he wanted. 

So when someone rang his doorbell late at night, he was too irritable and tired to bother answering it, but they graduated to knocking on the door with a patient, insistent cadence, so he hissed out some swears and levered himself up to answer the door. 

“What?” he yelled as he yanked the door open.

“Oh. Hello?” said Aziraphale, blinking in the hallway with his hand still poised to knock. 

Crowley straightened up, taken aback. “Aziraphale?”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for a social visit. Unless… Oh dear, we’ve never done this here, have we? I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

“No, no, no! Visits! ‘S fine, always welcome to drop by… Come in?” he stepped back, leaving the doorway open for him.

Aziraphale smiled his stupid megawatt grin. A small smile of Crowley’s own reciprocated automatically, as he watched his angel enter and wander around. His heart felt lighter and, not that he’d admit it, he was practically overjoyed that Aziraphale had decided to visit him for a change. Crowley relaxed, lounging on his throne as Aziraphale fussed about.

Silence stretched between them and Crowley searched for anything he could say to fill it, but the only two topics that came to mind (Where the heaven have you been? and, Let us list the ways I was right and you were wrong) were ones best left alone, at least until Aziraphale brought them up. 

“Do you mind if I make myself something comfortable?”

“Course not. Mi casa es su casa or whatever.”

“Thank you, dear.” Aziraphale punctuated his thanks with a soft smile then snapped, manifesting a plush, black leather couch that suited Crowley’s decor decently, and settled down on it. 

Right. Of course. There was nowhere for a guest. Foolish snake. 

“Well. How have you been? Up to anything?” said Aziraphale.

“Naaaahhhh. Just… passing the time…” he let out a long breath, “You know.” He flicked a glance at Aziraphale, not willing to look harder without his sunglasses on. 

“I’ve been rather busy. Going out on the town, as it were.” Aziraphale patted his knees awkwardly, then seemed to settle. “I’ve learned many new things, been talking to people. Very out of my ordinary.”

“Have you?” Crowley relaxed, putting his feet on his desk to tilt his throne back on two legs. 

“Yes, indeed I have. But I’m finished with all that now. Time to… time to um… hmm,“ Aziraphale hummed, trailing off. Crowley cocked his head, interested. He had no idea where this was going, which Aziraphale seemed to pick up on. “Well, it’s time to move forwards, isn’t it? Do you remember when we last spoke?”

“Of course I do.” Crowley let his throne drop down to all fours with a thunk. He didn’t think Aziraphale was going to breach the topic so soon.

“Good. Well I’ve been giving that a lot of thought.”

“Have you now? Because I went to Tadfield and got some new evidence.” He acted casual about it, unwilling to show how much he was looking forward to this. Aziraphale blinked, so he continued. “Thought you might like to know. I talked to the nun who actually misplaced the Antichrist, and showed her pictures of the Dowlings, and she admitted that she didn’t give them the baby I handed her.”

“Oh?”

Crowley leaned forward, nodding hard and working himself up. “Yes, indeed. And I even talked to other nuns who were there who said that two humans came in within an hour of one another, both laboring and birthed within a half hour of one another. And look at them!” Crowley whipped out his phone,  [ pulled up pictures he’d had at the ready of the Dowlings and Youngs side-by-side ](https://serafaina.tumblr.com/post/619475081652994048/the-casting-on-this-is-just-so-chefs-kiss) , and stood to show it to Aziraphale. “Look at how similar they look! I thought that was suspicious so I asked around. Turns out Adam’s parents struggled with fertility for years and consider him a miracle baby. And what’s more, they didn’t even come from Tadfield! They’re transplants there, because of a surprise opportunity that was too good to pass up. Hear that angel? Good surprises and miracle babies? You know this has Her fingerprints all over it.” 

He waved the phone again and Aziraphale nodded at it, satisfying Crowley enough to put it away before he continued, pacing back and forth in front of Aziraphale as all the things he’d learned just poured out. “Adam’s parents gave me those clues, so I had the humans run a DNA test on the Dowlings. You know DNA, yeah? New thing that the humans do to tell parentage. And it said Warlock was a blood relation! So how did a baby blood related to them come out of some other couple struggling with infertility, eh? Miraculous intervention, that’s how! She knew the babies would be shuffled, She planned for it and even made it so they’d end up where She wanted them. The Antichrist was a test for humanity, sure, but She made it so we couldn’t interfere and it was  _ only  _ a test for humanity! Which is why  _ God  _ ‘lost’ the Antichrist. I behaved impeccably! She planned it all along, so not only was it  _ not my fault _ he was misplaced, since Mary the nun admitted she swapped the babies all wrong, it wasn’t a mistake at all!”

Crowley ended with a huff and a finger in the air, as he had quite worked himself up and had been gesturing wildly. He looked over at Aziraphale, who had a small dusting of pink on his cheeks and was looking up at him from the couch a bit wide-eyed, and suddenly Crowley felt very awkward standing over him. He sat down on the arm of Aziraphale’s couch, crossing his legs and stuffing his hands in his pockets, playing at calm and composed. 

“Well…” said Aziraphale. “That was very thorough, my dear. I suppose I have no choice but to admit you were right. It seems as though it was indeed part of the ineffable plan after all. You still want me to ‘eat Crow’ now that I’ve been proven wrong, I presume?”

Crowley grinned and preened. “That’s right. Suffer the humiliation.”

Aziraphale nodded. “We can do that kind of play, if you’d like.”

“What?” 

Aziraphale looked unperturbed, but wasn’t making eye contact, instead watching his hands on his lap. Crowley slid down onto the couch proper, leaning on his hand along the back so he could face Aziraphale, his crossed ankles moved onto the floor proper. 

Aziraphale turned as well, looking at him as he said, “I know we don’t have to do things the human way, but I did like their notions of negotiation and consent, so I think it’s important that we communicate upfront.”

Crowley scowled a little, confused. Wasn’t the argument over? What needed negotiating? “I’m not following.”

“You want to humiliate me, yes? Did you want to do anything else?”

“No. Just wanted to rub it in your face a little. That’s all.”

Aziraphale smiled. “That sounds fine, my dear. I was expecting a bit more but that can be for another day. It’s good to start with easier things. Shall we do it here or did you prefer somewhere else?”

“Do what?”

“Have sex.”

“ _ What?! _ ” Crowley yelled and tried to leap up, but got his feet a bit tangled and he ended up just falling off the couch onto the floor. 

Aziraphale pressed his lips and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you’re getting all dramatic about it now, you’re the one who told me I had to do it if you won an argument.”

“No! Oh no, no, no! I’d never! Didn’t!”

“You did so! You said you’d make me eat Crow and you hoped I’d choke on it!”

“I said that, yeah, but no! It means like, to eat your hat or to eat your words! Not— N-not… Not that!” Crowley’s face burned and he didn’t bother to get up from the floor, reeling as he was from the direction this conversation was taking

Aziraphale blinked “Oh.” He flopped back on the couch, staring into the middle distance. 

The room was silent for a long moment. 

Crowley’s blank mind suddenly restarted with a jolt, throwing thoughts back into working order with speed and alacrity. Aziraphale had just nonchalantly proposed they have sex, like it was a given, like he was ready for it. Was he ready for it? Did he just come over to Crowley’s home with the intention that he’d bring up the argument and then they’d have sex with one another? Was that something Aziraphale did? Was that something that he wanted? Even Crowley’s ears were burning now, his face both frozen and hot. 

Crowley’s mouth worked, half wanting to ask some of those thoughts out loud, when he had a new one that immediately fell out of his mouth. “Then that means— You just said you’d be okay with me sexually humiliating you! You agreed to it!”

Aziraphale bit his bottom lip, his cheeks more red than pink now. “I did, yes.”

A few noises came out of Crowley’s throat, which if one was feeling generous they could describe as a scoff or perhaps a gasp. He swallowed and tried again, “Guh… Uh… So, you… Is that something you want, then?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never done it before. I thought it was something  _ you  _ wanted. I was willing to try it, for you.”

That landed like an arrow through Crowley’s heart. “For me?”

“Yes. I’ve never done any of those sorts of things so I was very flustered at first, but then when I thought you’d like them, they became quite a bit more appealing. The standard human advice i was given was to try anything I was open to at least three times before deciding if I liked it or not, and I found that didn’t seem like a hardship when I thought of trying them out with you.” 

“Three times.” Crowley repeated dumbly.

“That’s the advice.”

“I’ve never done them either.”

Aziraphale turned to look him right at him, eyes shining with curiosity, “Really?”

Crowley nodded. “Didn’t sound appealing.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale deflated a little. 

“Not with anyone else.”

“... _ Oh _ .”

“Could be fun.”

Aziraphale leaned forward. “It could.”

Crowley’s mouth was dry and he could feel his heart hammering out of his chest. They were perched on a precipice, teetering on its edge. Crowley swallowed. He could drop it, and he knew Aziraphale would honor that, never bring it up again. He could. Instead, he said, “If you, uh, if you still wanted to try something, I’d be— I mean, I am, um. Amenable.” 

“You are?”

Crowley licked his lips, appreciating the almost predatory look that Aziraphale was giving him from his seat on the couch, looking down on him. He nodded and swallowed again. “Anything you’d like.” 

“Anything?” Aziraphale scooted till he was perched on the edge of his seat. “That’s rather broad, my dear.”

“Ngk.”

Aziraphale’s face lit up in that way Crowley loved because he felt it light him up inside too. Crowley’s lips parted with a sharp inhale as his body heated. Aziraphale slid down off the couch so that he was kneeling in front of Crowley. 

“How about we start simple then? No other play, just some vanilla sex. Would you like that?”

Crowley whimpered. Aziraphale leaned forward till he was on hands and knees and crawled, moving over Crowley, who leaned back until he was laid out flat on the floor, staring up at his angel. 

“I’m going to need more explicit consent than that,” Aziraphale whispered, his face hovering above Crowley’s.

“Yes.”

“Wonderful.” Aziraphale lowered down and pressed a kiss to his lips. Crowley froze, his breath hitching, before he melted into it. It had always seemed a strange ritual, kissing. It was just rubbing your mouth on someone else’s, after all, but he found that when it was  _ Aziraphale’s  _ mouth pressing down on his it was rather exciting. The angel's lips were warm and soft, and the act itself felt almost unbearably intimate. Crowley lost himself in the sensation, relaxing into it. A small noise escaped his throat and Aziraphale pulled back. 

Crowley looked up at him, feeling vulnerable. His love for his angel bubbled up inside him, blooming its warmth in his body and he was sure it was written all over his face as Aziraphale watched, as he caged him there, practically pinned to the floor like a specimen, ready to be taken apart whenever Aziraphale wanted. 

Aziraphale hummed. “That’s rather lovely, kissing.” Crowley nodded, too full of emotions to dare speech. "Can I touch you? All of you?"

The thought of Aziraphale's hands roaming his body sent warm shivers down him, heat building to settle between his thighs. He bit his lip to keep from groaning and nodded again. 

"Lovely. You are so lovely, my dear,” said Aziraphale as he trailed a fingernail lightly down Crowley’s jaw, then neck, then the center of his chest, across the buttons of his shirt and waistcoat, which miraculously came undone as he did, his clothes sliding open and off him, exposing him to the cool air. Aziraphale's finger stopped at his waistband, and he pressed his palm down, hot against the planes of his stomach and slowly slid it back upwards. 

Crowley hissed in a breath and tilted his head back. It was so intimate, this touching, the hot drag of skin on skin. Aziraphale's hand reached his neck and wrapped around, pushing up to grab him by the jaw and tilt his head to the side. Aziraphale leaned down and pressed a kiss below his ear, trailing them down the line of Crowley's throat until he got to his pulse point, where he gently bit, sucking and nipping at the skin. 

Crowley moaned without meaning to and realized he'd been panting lightly for some time. 

Aziraphale pulled back to make eye contact, his eyes twinkling, "You liked that."

"Mmm." 

The grip on his jaw tightened slightly, earning a small gasp from Crowley as Aziraphale repeated the process, causing him to squirm and release another moan. 

Aziraphale swung one leg over Crowley’s hips, straddling them. He sat up, pressing his arse into Crowley's thighs a little as he did, freeing his hands to explore Crowley's chest and waist, caressing slowly as Aziraphale looked down on him in awe.

"You feel marvelous. The firmness of your ridges," Aziraphale pushed up Crowley’s sides, pressing against his ribs, "the softness of your divots" and he pulled down, resting his palms in the tuck of his waist, thumbs pressing in near his belly button. Aziraphale licked his bottom lip. "I wonder, are your wings softer than your skin? What would they feel like against my lips, if I were to kiss them?" 

" _ Aziraphale _ ," Crowley said, the word strangled in his tight throat, more aroused than he'd ever been in his very long life. It was overwhelming, feeling this much, but he couldn't deny Aziraphale this indulgence. He shifted, lifting up slightly, and manifested his wings. They lay flat on the floor under him, but bent upwards, over his shoulders as if reaching in surrender. 

Above him, Aziraphale took in a shuddering breath. "You are so beautiful. So generous and trusting." He trailed a knuckle across Crowley's cheekbone, then reverently brushed his fingertips against Crowley's wing, away from the bone, tracing down the edges of his vanes. The touch was electric, rocketing the feelings of intimacy and vulnerability higher as his angel stroked parts of him no one had ever touched, filling him with a sense of openness, like he'd been cracked apart and just handed his heart up to Aziraphale on a platter. He gasped, the tips of his wings twitching, his fingers grasping at the air. 

"I'm going to expose you now," said Aziraphale and Crowley groaned. How much more exposed could he possibly get? Aziraphale pressed his palm to Crowley's hipbone, and bent down, pressing a quick kiss to his wing joint. Then the other hand joined the first and he unbuckled Crowley's belt. He tugged down Crowley's trousers, pants and all. 

Apparently, he could feel more exposed, he realized when Aziraphale hesitated, pulling back slightly. Crowley's hands moved to cover his vulva, suddenly unsure. Aziraphale caught them by the wrist but barely held them in a loose grip it would be easy to pull out of.

"No, please don't." Aziraphale said, pleading with his eyes. "I'm sorry, it just wasn't what I was expecting."

"Sorry. I can change."

"No. No need, truly. This is also a lovely part of you. Don't apologize because I made a bad assumption." Aziraphale guided Crowley's hands up to kiss each palm and then pressed them against his waistcoat, its velvet ridges tickling Crowley’s fingertips. Crowley gripped, which Aziraphale leaned into and it was all so much. Being accepted, being touched, being  _ seen  _ and  _ known  _ and yet Aziraphale was still here, caring for him and being tender to him. He surged up, pressing his face into the crook of Aziraphale's neck, snaking his hands under his coat to wrap him in a tight embrace. Aziraphale returned his hug, gently carding his fingers through Crowley’s primaries with one hand while Crowley nuzzled his neck. 

“Are you alright, my dear?” Aziraphale whispered into his skin. 

The air of his words against Crowley’s neck sent a small shiver up his back. Crowley nodded vigorously and kissed the little skin he could reach, then tugged on the bottom of Aziraphale’s waistcoat. “Give.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “How terribly rude of me, not reciprocating” he said as he removed his already unbuttoned jacket. “Though I’ll need access to remove the rest.”

Crowley pulled back and relaxed his grip, allowing Aziraphale to reach his buttons, Crowley's own clothes sliding from his shoulders to pool at his waist with the movement. 

Aziraphale eyed him appreciatively. “Thank you, dear.” He slid his bowtie off and started unbuttoning. Crowley watched in silence, cataloging each new reveal in case this was something Aziraphale decided he didn’t want to repeat. Aziraphale’s chest was broader than his, stronger, his hair pale and coarse as it trailed down his soft belly. Crowley reached out to touch it and hesitated, his hand hovering near Aziraphale’s navel. He looked up and they made eye contact.

“Please,” Aziraphale said, as he finished pulling off his shirt. 

Aziraphale’s hair was as coarse as it looked, tickling as Crowley reverently traced his angel’s soft body. Aziraphale reached forward and pulled the rest of Crowley’s clothing off his arms, then raised up to kneel over him. Crowley rather missed the feeling of his weight pressing down on him, holding his legs still. What an odd thing to miss. He leaned back on his elbows, trying to act casual. 

In short order Aziraphale had removed all their clothes, Crowley helping at moments but not much, and then he paused. 

“What would you like, Crowley?” Crowley didn’t know how to answer that, his eyebrows raising and drawing together. Aziraphale reacted as if he’d spoken. “Right, of course, dear heart. You don’t know, you’ve never tried anything. Is there anything you are most curious about? Or specifically don’t want?” 

Crowley didn’t think of anything. Well, that’s not quite right. He thought of a lot of things, all obscene and jammed together like a train that had derailed in his brain, so nothing came out of it. 

Aziraphale nodded, “I see. Well, I’ve been thinking rather a lot about it. About having sex with you. Obviously, it was because of my misunderstanding, but as I thought you were interested in fucking my mouth, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what you’d taste like.”

Aziraphale bent down and kissed him, then nipped at his bottom lip. 

“Mmm. And with kissing you, it tastes so interesting, and different than I thought it would. Your kisses have a hint of coffee. And the salt of your skin,” Aziraphale nuzzled at Crowley’s jaw, pushing it up and sucking a bruise underneath. “It’s delicious. And so I wonder, does all of you taste so savory?” He picked up his hand and kissed Crowley’s palm, then trailed down to his wrist, where he sucked and nibbled. 

Crowley gasped. How could a wrist feel so pleasurable? Aziraphale smiled a little and pressed harder with his teeth. He knew. That bastard knew that would feel good. How had he known it would feel good? One of Aziraphale’s hands caressed Crowley’s hip before moving to cup his vulva. 

“These are supposed to taste a bit sweet. I want to know what yours tastes like, and if I’ll like it. You know how I get, with exciting new flavors. What if you're that flavor? I hope so. I want to crave you. I want to take my time eating you like a good dessert, feel satisfied by the complexity of your flavors. Take you apart and try the pieces individually, then all together. Would you like that? Is that something I can do to you? Can I put my mouth on you, wherever I’d like?"

“Yes,” Crowley blurted out immediately. It felt so good to feel desired, to hear Aziraphale saying those things, to know that his angel wanted him. Aziraphale had said  _ fucking _ , for- for someone’s sake. It had set him tingling, and he could feel the wetness of his arousal now, his own desire to please Aziraphale filling him. He’d do anything his angel wanted. 

Aziraphale parted Crowley’s knees, making a space for him to settle down between them. He kissed each thigh before scooting up, closing his eyes and taking an appreciative whiff. He looked like he did when testing the bouquet of a new wine, or savoring the steam off a fragrant entree. Like Crowley was a Michelin starred amuse-bouche he wanted to commit to memory before he indulged in. 

And then Aziraphale placed a hard kiss to the apex of Crowley’s slit, a closed mouth press that sparked fireworks. Crowley gasped, his clit so expertly targeted his body immediately begged for more, his wings shivering with excitement. 

Aziraphale kissed it again, this time opening his mouth to explore with his lips and tongue, giving small thoughtful noises and throaty hums that vibrated through Crowley, amplifying his pleasure. 

Then his angel moaned and sucked, like he was trying to greedily devour Crowley. Crowley howled with pleasure, his hips rocking into it on instinct. Encouraged, Aziraphale grabbed his hips and started licking in broad, hard strokes, lapping at him, pressing into Crowley’s folds and flicking his clit on each stroke, a rhythmic assault. It was good. So good. Crowley had never felt such pleasure. He was moaning non-stop and could feel tension building, as he was driven relentlessly towards orgasm. 

He tried to convey that to Aziraphale, but mostly all that came out was Ah’s and Oh’s and one memorable “Yes” when Aziraphale’s hands squeezed his bum. Crowley lost himself in the sensations, overwhelmed, eyes pressed closed in an attempt to just process the ratcheting pleasure that Aziraphale was tearing out of him. 

And then Aziraphale changed to a swirling motion with his tongue, pressing fingers gently to his opening, an unsaid question. 

“Yes, yes, please, yes.” Crowley said. Aziraphale pushed into his dripping cunt, and started moving, swirling and petting, and it felt fantastic. His angel was inside his body, manipulating him,  _ fucking  _ him. He opened his eyes and looked down, their eyes immediately locking together. Aziraphale looked so pleased, with his face buried there, his eyes crinkled in the corners like when he adored something and… 

Crowley realized where Aziraphale’s other hand was when he noticed the movement of his shoulder. 

“Oh God. Aziraphale, are you… Are you touching yourself?”

“I am.” He started fucking into Crowley with two fingers, using his thumb to hit Crowley’s clit on each press in time with his other hand’s motions now that he’d removed his mouth. “You are delicious, Crowley, and I love licking and sucking you. The aroma alone is worth relishing and when I’m down here, it’s all over my face and mouth and it fills my senses with your heady scent. The taste is so rich and earthly, with just a touch of sweetness mixed in. I want to drink you, to ravish you, and no matter how much I lap up, you just keep making more for me to indulge in. I’ve gotten quite caught up in it all. And I like how you feel against my fingers, smoother than the finest velvets and soft, so soft. I want to watch you climax. I want to see if it changes the way you taste if I have my mouth on you when you do. I want to hear your voice as your pleasure peaks and know that I am the source of that.”

Crowley dropped his head back down with a loud groan, wrapping his arms around himself just to hold on to something, so overcome. His angel didn’t miss a beat, pressing his tongue back down and resuming his rhythm, making Crowley's back arch, his hands roving his chest. The tension inside him built faster, a glowing sensation forming in his body and threatening to spill over. Crowley was wanted, so wanted. His angel was touching himself because he loved being covered in Crowley’s arousal, a fact that mixed his desire all up with his love, setting his body alight. His wings stretched out, as wide as they could go, his back arching up off the ground and his thighs shaking with the tension building in his body. With a cry it consumed him and he came, his pussy throbbing and pulsing, pleasure and satiation blooming, flooding his bloodstream. He dropped back down, boneless and moaning as Aziraphale lapped slower and deeper, humming in happiness as he worked him through to the end of his climax. 

“Aziraphale,” he croaked out. 

And yet again, Aziraphale responded to what he hadn’t been able to say, gathering him up into an embrace, hooking Crowley’s legs over his own. He pressed a single chaste kiss to Crowley’s cheek and then surrounded him, pulling him into a tight hug, manifesting his wings to shroud them, their feathers brushing against one another. 

They held one another, content. As time passed Crowley became more aware of his condition and surroundings, realizing he was sticky with sweat, that he had come so hard he was sore from it, and that Aziraphale’s cock was hard and pressed into his hip. 

Crowley pressed his cheek to Aziraphale’s, rubbing against his sandpaper stubble. His angel made a pleased noise, and so Crowley kissed him, trying to copy what Aziraphale had done before that had felt so nice. 

“Please?” he asked, and this time, Aziraphale had to pull back, eyes roving on his face, concerned. Crowley added, “Let me?”

Aziraphale beamed. “Of course! You want to feel me? Touch me? I would love that. I want to feel it.” He took Crowley’s hand and placed it against his chest. Crowley caressed him, brushing up against his dusky nipples, entranced as they pebbled under his touch. Aziraphale closed his eyes, clearly focusing on his own enjoyment, the hedonist, so Crowley trailed lower, brushing up against his cock. His angel moaned at that. Encouraged, Crowley took him in hand, loosely stroking up and down. 

His angel’s breathing became heavier, and his eyebrows raised. Crowley lifted his wings to run them up and down Aziraphale’s sides and firmed his grip. Aziraphale moaned, open-mouthed and wanton. Aziraphale fell back, leaning on his hands as his wings began to shiver. 

Crowley liked that. He liked it a lot. He felt like a man drowning, lost in the ocean of Aziraphale’s pleasure, amazed that he was the source of it all. Aziraphale’s breaths were coming fast and heavy now, with vocalizations peppered throughout. Crowley kept going, his other hand running over Aziraphale’s plump thighs and hips, Crowley’s wings tracing along his angel’s. 

“Oh, Crowley, that feels magnificent. Your hand on me. Your touch. Oh and your wings, they’re so soft my dear, they’re so gentle. You make me feel cherished. I cherish you, too. Oh, that feels so good, please don’t stop.” 

Crowley did exactly as he was asked, the hand on Aziraphale’s cock speeding up a little in his haste to obey. This was well received, as Aziraphale gifted him more of his moans and began thrusting up into his hand. Suddenly he was coming, and ejaculate spattered onto the both of them. Aziraphale hissed through his teeth, grabbed Crowley’s hand that was working him and slowed it, giving a few last pumps before stilling them. 

Aziraphale’s face slowly lost its tension and he pulled back, scooting till he was upright and sitting cross legged. He gave a deep sigh and opened his eyes, which were so dilated they looked nearly black, then looked Crowley up and down. He reached out and slid a finger through the spunk on Crowley’s abs.

“Hmm. That’s a bit pretty.” He rubbed his fingertips together. “What an interesting texture… A bit sticky.” He licked one finger and made a face. “Bitter and slimy. That’s too bad. You tasted so good.” He waved his hand and the mess vanished.

Crowley tried to make a noncommittal noise, but what came out was a bit more high-pitched, like a kettle going off. 

“I’m looking forward to trying that twice more, though I’m fairly certain that I enjoy it a great deal. What fun!” said Aziraphale. 

“Twice more?” 

“Well, not immediately, but sometime in the near future, hopefully. That’s advice I’d planned to follow still.” He looked up at Crowley, concerned and nearly tripping over his tongue to keep talking, “If you’re still amenable, of course, that is… I didn’t mean to pressure you or say I have expectations or… I suppose I should start with, um. Well, did you enjoy that?”

Crowley nodded, “Yes. Definitely. Very fun. Felt, um, terrific.” He shivered, his wings rustling with the strength of it. 

Aziraphale’s brows rose in concern and another shiver wracked Crowley’s body. “What’s wrong? Something is wrong.”

Crowley opened his mouth but just sort of left it hanging. How could he explain that yes, it had felt wonderful when Aziraphale had broken his feelings open like a cracked egg and poured them out but now he didn’t know how to put himself back together? That he’d always thought orgasms looked painful and it turned out that they weren’t but when you were deeply in love with someone and they tore one out of you it was raw, inside, after? The floor was cold and Aziraphale wasn’t but all he had left was the floor at the moment. 

“ ‘S a lot? I mean, nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just… uh. Feelings? It’s fine though, sorry.” His eyes prickled.

“Oh! I see! Goodness me, no, I should be the one apologizing! Forget my head next.” Aziraphale snapped and a steaming mug of tea appeared, as well as a very large, fluffy black comforter, folded on the couch. “Here, hold this,” he handed Crowley the mug. Suddenly Aziraphale was gathering him up in his arms and Crowley gripped the mug with both hands, trying not to spill. Aziraphale sat down on the couch with Crowley in his lap, pulled tight against his chest, and wrapped the comforter around them both, tucking it in at the edges, mindful of their wings. “You need aftercare.”

Crowley wrinkled his nose in distaste. “This is all a bit… demonstrative.”

“Sip your tea. I like being able to demonstrate my affections, if you don’t mind.”

Crowley sipped his tea and made a face. “Sweet.”

“Good for the corporation, after. Helps recovery.”

Crowley grunted and took another sip. 

They rested there for some time, nestled in their wings and a comforter, well after Crowley finished his drink. Aziraphale had taken it out of his hands and set it aside, but then just started gently stroking Crowley’s back, continuing to cuddle him. It felt odd, at first, but quickly the strangeness faded to a calm comfort, a sense of togetherness and intimacy that did actually help him put himself back together again. How’d his angel know what he needed when he didn’t know what he’d needed?

“How’d you know all that?” Crowley asked.

“Know what?”

“All that. You were like an expert. Knew all sorts of things to do. Knew what to call it all, stages, everything. I was fumbling around like an idiot. And you said you’d never before.”

“I’ve read books.”

Crowley laughed and extracted himself from their little cuddle-cocoon. “You didn’t get all that from books!”

Aziraphale dipped his chin. “Well, I’ve also been attending some lovely demonstrations to brush up on the practicals as well. A few lectures, group discussions… play parties… an orgy or two.”

“You went to an orgy? And what’s a play party? What do you play at them?”

Aziraphale perked up, “They’re parties where people do BDSM things to each other! And they call it ‘play!’ Isn’t that so human of them!? Would you like to go to one with me?”

“You want to go to a party and do BDSM things with each other?!” 

“Maybe. Could be interesting? I don’t know. They certainly seemed to enjoy it. But mostly I thought it would be a good learning opportunity, since I doubt you’re as interested in the reading materials I’ve gathered. I certainly appreciated the practicals being demonstrated.” 

“You’re offering to take me to go study sex at a BDSM party.”

“Or an orgy. Katherine is very knowledgeable and willing to share it.” 

Crowley heaved a deep sigh. 

“Fine. See what you’re making such a fuss about. But not today.” It’s not like it was hard to control whether or not the humans would be able to notice them, if he didn’t want to be seen, and Crowley’d infiltrated more than one sex ring in his line of work. If Aziraphale was interested, these must have been much nicer ones, and that in and of itself was a bit intriguing, if he was being honest. Trying all sorts of things out three times did seem doable. And if he was being really,  _ really _ , honest with himself, he wanted to be at least as good at wrecking Aziraphale as Aziraphale was at wrecking him. 

“Wonderful. I’ll look forward to it.”

○ ● 😇 ● ○ ○ ● 😈● ○

The next day they were lounging around the bookshop when the bell rang and a delivery man entered.

"Package for Mr. Fell?" he called.

"That's me, thank you very much," Aziraphale signed and the man left. He took his box to his desk, and Crowley sauntered over, leaning against a column and peering down curiously.

Aziraphale sat, popped the tape with his silver letter opener, moved the paper package filler and then stopped to gasp an "oh!" and wiggle. He pulled out a pair of leather manacles with one hand and a larger matching pair with the other. 

"Oh they are as lovely as I hoped!" said Aziraphale. Inky black snakeskin leather, lined with wine red silks and studded with gold, hefty golden chains holding them together. 

Crowley's brain short circuited, his mouth dropped open and a croak escaped. Aziraphale didn't seem to have noticed. He scrambled to order his thoughts, mouth working and eventually managed a squeaky "Angel!"

Aziraphale turned to him. "Yes?"

"You bought bondage gear?! You don't even know if you'd like it!"

"I appreciate fine craftsmanship! And symbolism!"

**Author's Note:**

> But why did Crowley start sub-dropping when it was just soft, vanilla sex, you ask? Because he was submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known! (All joking aside, this is a reasonable reaction to your first time having sex that some people have! Aftercare is for anyone who needs it, not just people doing heavy play!)
> 
> Yes, they do go to play parties together, and Crowley sniffs out the shitty abusers and rapists, then gets his jollies ruining their lives, with Aziraphale’s approval and assistance. The London Scene had never been as safe! 
> 
> The book mentioned, [When Someone You Love Is Kinky,](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/503942.When_Someone_You_Love_is_Kinky) is a real book that gets recommended to people, if you are interested. 
> 
>   
> [Their initial argument is partially inspired by this lovely art! ](https://celestyelle.tumblr.com/post/190728583899/pleeeeeassseee-tell-me-this-hasnt-been-done)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Eating Crow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905650) by [semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperfiona/pseuds/semperfiona_podfic)




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